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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389907">Ghost Stories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass'>casstayinmyass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ghost (Sweden Band), Repugnant (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Canon Compliant, Cemetery, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Panic Attacks, Phobias, Social Anxiety, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:15:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of all my short SFW ficlets from tumblr.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. He Is Headcanon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, this is just a spot to keep all my short Ghost ficlets. Most are platonic or mildly romantic fics about Ministry life, character interaction studies, Emeritus bros stuff, fun drabbles based on art, etc. A select few will be a tad NSFW in language and implication, and I will warn before those. All of these are short, my longer ones get their own fics on here :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>When Terzo was just a little boy, he was scared of the dark.</p></div><div class=""><p>"Boys don't cry" and the like was never a sentiment tossed around by the Emeritus family, so he was quite open about his fear, and his brothers and father knew about it.</p></div><div class=""><p>One night, a particularly bad storm had plunged the Ministry into darkness. Secondo, unaffected by it, had gone to check and see what the ghouls were doing about fixing the electricity (Nihil was sleeping through the outage, and Primo was at prayer in the chapel-- the responsibilities always seemed to fall to him, one way or another). On his way back to his room, Secondo passed a bedroom and heard sniffling. The middle brother turned his head, and through the low light, he saw that it was coming from behind Terzo's door. </p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>He was going to keep walking-- after all, the boy was probably just thinking about  getting called spoiled last week. Or, perhaps he was having a nightmare, and those really should be left to run their course. But the sound was pitiful, and as an older brother with <em>something </em>of a heart, Secondo couldn't find it within himself to leave him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Gently opening the door, he looked in. His breath caught. Little Terzo was sitting off the side of his bed, safeguarding a single candle with his life. His hand was shaking, tears streaming down his face. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Fratellino," Secondo murmured softly. Terzo jerked his head up, and though the tears still came, his jittering shoulders relaxed a little. "What are you doing?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"The dark," Terzo swallowed. "It cannot get me if I hold this candle up. That is true, yes?" A gust of wind from the open window caused the candle to flicker, and Terzo's eyes widened in fear. Secondo sighed, and shut his door, walking over to join him on the bed. He sank down onto it, leaving a larger impression than his little brother, and swept his robes behind his feet. He wasn't good at sage advice. He wasn't good at advice, period. But he did have some kind of wisdom, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do anything to ease this fear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yes. It is true," he told Terzo, nodding as he watched the flame dance. "But... let me tell you something about the dark, Terzo."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What is there to tell?" Terzo whimpered, lifting his cupped hand to protect the light, "The dark is scary."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So am I."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Terzo looked up, confused. "What?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Secondo shrugged languidly. "I am scary, am I not? From an outside perspective-- if you did not know me as your brother-- you would think I was scary, no?" Secondo looked at him. Terzo looked up at the taller with big eyes, blinking once skeptically. Secondo tried to make a scary face under his skull paint, to no avail.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"No. You are not scary, brother." Secondo didn't know whether to feel surprised or offended, so he just skipped both.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Okay. Fine. But to those less... desensitized, I am known as the most frightening of our family."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Truly?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Agh, the point I am trying to make is, when you look at somebody or something one way, it may seem frightening. If you look at it another, it may seem less so." Terzo nodded, but when the wind threatened the flame again, still he gasped. Secondo thought hard about what else he could say. Then, as he gazed upon the inverted cross hanging above Terzo's bed, something struck him. "Terzo? Do you say your prayers to the Old One nightly?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yes." Terzo avoided eye contact. "Well. Sometimes I get too sleepy and I forget."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Secondo resisted the urge to chuckle, and gave his brother a small pat on the head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That is okay. I am sure Father falls asleep during his." The two shared a knowing smile, before Secondo went on. "And what do you say when you pray at night?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"The Anti-Nicene Creed, as we are supposed to. I know it by heart now," Terzo grinned proudly. He got another pat for that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Terzo, the Old One is all around us. We feel his presence when we recite our words, give our sermons, say our prayers. Do you understand?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Terzo nodded. "Yes."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"And you know that Lucifer is the reason we are here, in this church-- our home. We are here to spread His Unholy word." Terzo nodded again. "Now, our brother, our father, Sister Imperator, me, we all have different ideas of who and what he is. I want to know what you think he is."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Terzo thought for a second. He was thinking so hard he almost forgot about the candle. "He is... insurrection. Spite. He's the force that created us."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Secondo nodded. "Very good. He is also our nurturing mother. Our generous father." Tentatively, Secondo leaned forward toward the candle. Terzo stiffened, but Secondo comforted him, blowing softly so that the light extinguished. He held his little brother, gesturing out through the darkness. "Shh. Look. He shines a bright light. Can you see it?" Terzo squinted, and Secondo opened up his palm, producing three little balls of light. He hadn't studied much magic, but it was enough to make Terzo's eyes pop.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I see it, brother!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Mm. You will see it whenever it is dark, if you look hard enough," Secondo explained. "Ours is the way of the dark. When we are one with our Dark Lord, we are one with darkness. Find peace and strength in it, Terzo, and use this to turn fear into wonder." He nodded Terzo's way. "Think of what He is, and feel it when you find yourself without light. You will do that for me?" </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Terzo surprised Secondo with a tight hug. Though he wasn't used to getting so close to someone, the big brother made an exception. and wrapped his arm in turn around the little one.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Terzo felt this hug around him as if it was the night before as he clutched the microphone at his very first ritual as Papa, many decades later. The spotlight was the only light around him, and the entire rest of the auditorium was plunged into the darkness he had come to love.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Join us now," he smiled out to the crowd, "In He Is."  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ghost Stories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Popia and Dew tell ghost stories late one night.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Papa IV looked nothing like he had onstage. Nothing like the grand peacock who had come strutting out, flaunting his feathers and brand new skull paint to his adoring crowd. No. He was currently huddled in a big IKEA duvet he had dragged from his bedroom to their secret hideout, aka, the back creepy corner of the huge Ministry library. </p><p>Dew sat beside him, legs curled as he flipped the page of the book he was reading the new Papa. The two used to have this tradition back when Copia was Cardinal, and they weren’t about to stop it now: reading ghost stories to one another in the dark. It was an odd tradition, both supposed, one that didn’t seem quite proper for either parties involved. But it was fun, and it meant both had company on lonely stormy nights, even though they kept it a well-guarded secret.</p><p>Copia shivered. “And… what happened next?”</p><p>“The phone continued to ring,” Dew read on.</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Shush, I’m getting to it!” Dew’s eyes glared orange fire, turning back to the book as if he hadn’t just told the Papa himself to shut up. “And the babysitter picked it up… but there was nobody on the line.” </p><p>“Nobody?!”</p><p>
  <em>“Nobody.”</em>
</p><p>Copia shuddered nervously. “Was it a serial killer?”</p><p>“No. It was a ghost!”</p><p>“Even worse,” Copia squeaked. </p><p>“Shall I go on?”</p><p>Copia gulped. “Please.”</p><p>“She put the phone down… but heard a creaking in the basement.”</p><p>“Oh no. No, no. Do not go down there, cara mia!”</p><p>“She did.”</p><p>“Ah, shit.” Copia huddled deeper into his blankets, obscuring his trembling, painted lower lip. “And…?”</p><p>“And there, standing at the base of the stairs….”</p><p>
  <em>“Yes?”</em>
</p><p>“Was the scariest dead thing she’d ever laid eyes on!”</p><p>“She had seen many before?”</p><p>“No, she– shush, it was a big scary ghost!”</p><p>“Oh,” Copia moaned, huddling.</p><p>“And you know what it said?”</p><p>“W-what did it say?”</p><p>“It said–”</p><p>“Oh, hey guys. Anyone seen my bananas?”</p><p>“FUCK!” Copia shouted, and both nearly jumped through the frescos at the sight of the hastily materialized Aether ghoul behind them. Popia had a fit in his blanket, thrashing. “Satan help me, ghoul… why are you in the… I should… why, I should–” Aether blinked those purple eyes back at him expectantly, and Copia sighed, sitting back down. “Join us, in the tale of the Haunted Babysitter. Shit is just getting good.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Onstage Nerves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Everybody gets nervous onstage.”</p><p>Terzo hangs his head in shame. “You did not. Secondo certainly did not.”</p><p>Primo thinks carefully of what to say next, of how to console his youngest brother. “Do not concern yourself with Secondo. He may seem iron fisted, but he is far less open about the battles he fights in his mind than I am.” Primo sits for a moment, thinks some more. “I have my fair share.”</p><p>“It is nothing compared to what I deal with on the daily!” Terzo drapes himself with no small amount of expression over the arm of the couch. Primo settles his lips into a firm line, his eyes stern– not unkind, but stern.</p><p>“Terzo, fratello. Your struggle does not fall on deaf ears, but perhaps when seeking out confidence in another, you might exercise the discipline to respect the struggle of others in their fellow paths.”</p><p>Terzo looks down. “I apologize. You know I meant nothing by it.”</p><p>“I know. Only something to keep in mind…” Primo trails off. “What were we dealing with? Ah. The matter of your nerves.”</p><p>“It was as if someone had dunked me in a bucket of cold water, it was awful,” Terzo sighed. “I want to be more like you were, Primo.”</p><p>“Fratello. You are more of an entertainer than I am.” He tilts his head. “I was more of a… a teacher, if you will. I spread the message of our lord to the masses through fear and curiosity. Secondo did so with intimidation. You do so with love and community. You draw people in and you do not let go. You are the one who will bring the followers in droves to the Dark Lord.” Terzo is blushing. He nods, then thinks of something.</p><p>“You said you got nervous onstage as well,” Terzo frowned. “In what way?”</p><p>Primo smiles slightly. “When I became aware of my crowd, it affected my… shall we say, stance.” He lifts his chin, and mimes his action. “I used to tug my collar up incessantly when I was nervous.”</p><p>Terzo smiles, the thought of his eldest, most composed brother with a tick making him feel a little better. He may have been a disciple of Satan, but he was only human. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Papa I Meets Mary Goore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Based on that one time Repugnant played the same festival as Ghost.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“They said they’d be here soon,” Mary growled, looking at the clock. It was almost halfway through today’s set of the festival, but since his band wasn’t going onstage until later, timing didn’t matter for them– the concern was for the band who would be borrowing their equipment tonight. They were the band shrouded in secrecy, the great mystery of the Maryland Deathfest. Secretly, Mary had been in awe of the band Ghost, and had wanted to meet them since he heard their first song. While their music wasn’t as hardcore as his own, not by a mile, he appreciated their look. </p><p>But right now, Ghost was late, and they were supposed to be rigging up Repugnant’s equipment for the next act. </p><p>“Looking for <em>Papa Emeritus!</em>” Mary spat, reading off the roster, “Fucking hurry up, if you’re–”</p><p>“Il sono Papa Emeritus Primo.” A deep, raspy voice came from behind him, and Mary’s eyes widened a little. He turned, and towering above him was his worst nightmare– and it was the coolest fucking thing he’d ever seen. </p><p>“Ghost?” Mary murmured. “You’re uh, Ghost, yeah?” The Papa before him gestured around him to his hooded bandmates, and nodded slightly. He had a smoking thurible swinging from his fingers. Damn. Mary had to give it to them for attention to detail. “Shit. Um…” He stared into the expectant eyes of what looked like the Antipope, and stuttered over his words. He wanted to ask for an autograph or something, or flee in fear, but he himself was fucking Mary Goore! Corpse fucker, cannibal extraordinaire! He didn’t run away from Satanic Popes like this joker. “Precis i tid, you guys… gotta get rigged, or whatever. Crew guys’ll take care of it, hurry the fuck up, okay?”</p><p>Mary ran a hand through his hair as Papa Emeritus bowed to him, and swallowed. Something about these guys was so composed. Unnerving, but metal as fuck. It was the perfect combination, and Mary was fascinated. Just as Papa was gliding by him, the robed man stopped, put a firm hand on the skinny death metal singer’s shoulder and lifted his chin regally. Mary shivered at the cold, bony hand.  </p><p>“Solo un momento. Perhaps next time Mr. Goore, you would show a little respect to your elders. It may benefit you in the long run to do so.” </p><p>Mary scoffed at the gimmick, ignoring the unsettling fact that Papa knew his full name. He smeared more blood down his face and sneered. “Yeah. Hail Satan, right?” </p><p>Papa just gave him a cryptic, almost sinister smile. “You know nothing of Satan.” </p><p>With that, the dark, sacrilegious reversed hymn that welcomed Ghost out onto the stage began to bleed out of the speakers, and the old, spooky man parted ways. Mary stood there, dumbfounded. He felt as if he had just been dressed down by the devil himself. He turned to watch Papa Emeritus stride out on stage, arms out in greeting. A couple of hooded bandmates brushed past Mary to get out on stage, and he caught a hint of sulfur. </p><p>Maybe not the devil himself… but there was something about these guys that just screamed authenticity. Mary could respect that. He fucking hated posers. </p><p>“Weird guy,” his own drummer muttered, and Mary was shaken from his trance. </p><p>“Yeah.” He watched Papa launch into the first song, and thought he saw the man’s white eye glow a little too bright in the light of the crowd. Mary started to grin. “Weird…” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Domestic Papa II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Slight NSFW. No sex, just talking about it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“And try our quick and delicious pasta marinara sauce, for real Italian cooking!” </em>
</p><p>You get out of the bathroom, drying your hair out from your shower. Papa’s sitting in front of the TV, scotch in hand, scoffing at the annoying commercial.<em><br/>
</em></p><p>“That is not real Italian cooking,” Secondo criticizes from his spot in his armchair. “They do not know anything. That 5 minute meatball gorge fest is a fucking abomination.” You roll your eyes playfully as you pour yourself a drink.</p><p>“Oh Papa, don’t start.”</p><p>“I thought you liked it when I talked dirty,” he says, opening up his arms for you to come sit.</p><p>“Yeah,” you smirk, sliding backward onto his lap so your back was to his chest. “I love it when you dirty talk about meatballs.”</p><p>“Would you like a different kind of balls, then?” he teases with a dark chuckle, hands beginning to work their magic into your tight shoulder muscles. </p><p>“Depends,” you smile, leaning back into his arms, “Do I still get the yummy marinara sauce?”</p><p>“Cooked the right way,” Papa hums into your ear, wrapping a hand around your middle. “With fresh basil, parmesan, olio d’oliva…” </p><p>“Are we still talking about testicles?” you laugh. </p><p>“Unless you are planning on marinating mine in red sauce, no. I am no stranger to food play though– only, perhaps not so close to home, mm?”</p><p>You giggle, and he smiles at the sound. He takes a deep breath of your hair, smelling whatever fruity shampoo you always brought along to use in his huge, luxurious showers. Sometimes in the mornings after you’ve left to attend to your sisterly duties, he can still smell it on his satin pillows. “Make me some?” </p><p>Papa’s drawn back into reality, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Either my mind was elsewhere, or the drums at my Rituals have finally taken their toll.” He taps his ear. “Am I making you some, or making you cum?” </p><p>“I mean,” you grin, “I wouldn’t say no to both.” </p><p>“Neither would I,” he growls in your ear, kissing your cheek. Before you have a chance to grind back against him for the latter though, he stands, lifting a passionate finger. “Bene, tesoro mia. The kitchens are abandoned this time of night. The only one you see in there at this hour is that Cardinal periodically– he likes to snack in the late hours, even though he denies it vehemently. The crumbs on his cassock are telling.” He waves a hand. “I digress. I will go down and make my specialty, a pasta that will make you weep.” </p><p>“At… 11:30 at night?” you ask. </p><p>“The dead of night is the perfect time to bewitch you with my myriad of flavours,” he hums, already putting his green and black bathrobe on. “I will pleasure your taste buds like they’ve never been pleasured before.” </p><p>“Funny. That’s what you said the first time I sucked your dick.” </p><p>His lips twitch up, and he slips those dumb aviators on, lest anyone but you see that he has eyes. “I confess I know nothing about the art of preparing dessert. Perhaps we have found something to make up for that, no?” </p><p>You smile, watching the grand Papa sweep out the door looking like The Dude from The Big Lebowski. His posture changes as he braces himself for unwanted spectators in the halls– he can only truly relax around you. You imagine in amusement him bursting into the darkened kitchen, scaring whatever ghouls were prowling for scraps or poor Copia who only wanted to “test” the leftover blueberry pie, to prove that commercial wrong in what could only be honestly described as spite cooking. You weren’t complaining though– you’d have a surprise waiting for him once he got back.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Papa III's Persona</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You stumble upon Papa III in his chambers, unprepared for a visitor.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was to be an exciting end to an otherwise uneventful day of Ministry life, this assignment. Sister Imperator had tasked you with delivering a stack of paperwork to the Papa. Part of you was excited– Papa was an attractive man, there was no denying that, and you’d be lying if you said that you didn't  share most of the congregation’s affection (and attraction) for and to him. Part of you was also nervous, however. You didn’t know how he would react to being saddled down with all this work this late at night, but Imperator had insisted he receive it tonight. While Papa’s older brothers were both calm and could always be counted on to act in a level headed manner, the current and third brother’s head tended to swell with pride and he was prone to mood swings when displeased with something.</p><p>You try not to think of that. This is the first time you’d been given the opportunity to deliver anything directly to a Papa before, and interact with one outside of making eye contact for four seconds while receiving unholy communion.</p><p>You come up to the door to Papa Emetitus III’s bedroom. You take a deep breath, and knock three times on the it. The third knock accidentally pushes the door open. You try to scramble to close the unlocked door, but it’s too late. You’ve already seen Papa in his boxers and purple bathrobe, taking a deep drag on a sneaked cigarette. He notices the open door, and you.</p><p>“(y/n)!” He coughs out his lungful of smoke in surprise, and waves it away. “Eh, I mean to say– Sister.” He straightens his back a little. “Sister (y/n). That was just… yeah. What can I do you for?” Your interest is piqued, and you’re more than a little flattered. You had never thought he could pick you out in a crowd, much less know you by your first name.</p><p>“I have… paperwork for you?”</p><p>Repulsion flickers through his eyes, but he doesn’t react as you had feared he would.</p><p>“Yes. Put it on the stool over there,” he sighs, and kicks the door closed gently. You go to do as he asks, and can’t help the question that comes out.</p><p>“You know my name?” you inquire. He gives a small gesture.</p><p>“Well, I am no King ruling over subjects. Is it not fitting the head of a congregation should know his convent by their names?” At your skeptical stare, he deflates. “Do I really seem like that much of a self absorbed asshole, that that sounds like complete bullshit?” You giggle softly.</p><p>“No, Papa. If I may speak freely…” He nods curiously. “I think many find you arrogant. But,” you clear your throat. “Most find that attractive.”</p><p>“Yourself included?”</p><p>“I really couldn’t say.” You quirk an eyebrow, then remember your place. “Papa.”</p><p>“Please, dispense with the titles. You have wandered into my chambers late at night and witnessed me in a state of undress, and though I am sure it is a very appealing sight, we are beyond formalities I would say. Besides, I am tired of Papa this, Papa that. It is nice to hear in bed sometimes, but after a while, it gets a bit stale.” He flops back down in his armchair, grabbing a small silver case. “Cigarette?”</p><p>You politely decline.</p><p>He takes your refusal as a personal cue, nodding passionately and tossing the personalized case away. “For the best. I have been trying to quit for the voice, but, eh… the ghouls like me better with a vice to control my nerves, you see?” He wiggles his eyebrows a little, and falters with the hint of a melancholy smile on those full lips. The look in your eyes is asking, “what nerves?” and he’s not sure he wants to explain. You make it easy for him, changing the subject.</p><p>“Speaking of the ghouls. Can I have them prepare you something? Something to warm you before bed?”</p><p>“No, no. I can call for them myself if I need to.” The anxiety you felt upon entering returns as you wonder if you had offended him. He didn’t need to be babied. You take the following silence as your social cue to leave before you embarrass yourself any further, but he speaks again as you turn to the door.</p><p>“Sister?” You can hear something different in his voice, something you hadn’t heard at a sermon, a ritual, even in passing greeting. You take a chance.</p><p>“If I’m not referring to you as Papa, then that means you’re obligated to use my first name too,” you say playfully. “You know, like you did just now before you remembered the pomp and circumstance?”</p><p>“Yes,” he ducks his head in what you can only assume to be a blush underneath that skull paint, “Yes, very well, (y/n).” You still can’t get over how nice, how oddly gratifying it is to hear your name rolling off his silver tongue. “You can call me Terzo.” He raises a finger. “Tonight, and tonight only.”</p><p>“Terzo,” you smile. “Third.”</p><p>“Yes,” he scoffs, “Fitting that a father who is named ‘Zero’ would have the chronological sense to continue the tradition of naming his sons not names, but numbers. Like livestock.” He muses this, staring into his fireplace. “That is what we are. Highly ranked cattle, only to be slaughtered to make way for more. I have read the Ministry histories. I know what lies ahead of me, if my hubris or lack of coordination does not claim me first.” He inspects his nails. “I always thought I would laugh in the face of such a thing. My brother was right when he said your mortality is like an unwelcome old friend breathing down your neck.” He waves his hand in dismissal. “But, I digress, I rant. Back to my point, I don’t have anything against Father. He never had anything against me." </p><p>"If it’s any consolation…” you offer, biting your lip. “…I think Terzo is a musical name. I think it’s handsome, and well suited to you." </p><p>He gives a genuine smile, then waves a hand. "Ah. It is not your job to cheer me up, dolce mia, but I thank you for it. I am not bitter. But sometimes the clouds in my mind part you see, and the reality is revealed lurking behind carefully crafted fantasy.”</p><p>“Sometimes I like a good carefully crafted fantasy,” you hum.</p><p>“It is a beautiful thing, what the mind can make, isn’t it?” Terzo gets up. Though not intoxicated in the slightest, he trips over himself, grabbing the mantle for steadying. You seal your lips into a tight line, trying not to laugh.</p><p>“To an outside eye, I look like a fucking drunk.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You are not supposed to agree with me.”</p><p>“But I do.”</p><p>He grins, somewhat bashful for a man of his personality. Or, persona you’ve come to realize. “My hand eye coordination is the royal shits. I wish it was not, but eh. Life. The Children of Ghost, they love me for it. They call me a, eh… what did Special report to me from the interwebs? A <em>dumbass</em>.” He deadpans the word, and this time, you do laugh. “I suppose I am in a way. I do not have my eldest brother’s smarts, nor the command of my older brother.”</p><p>“But you have the talent.” He looks at you.</p><p>“What?” You stare at him.</p><p>“Don’t make me repeat it.” He looks genuinely shocked, though, so you go on. “Do you not see how truly gifted you are onstage?”</p><p>“Well, yes, but…” he falters. “I flaunt, and I cavort, and I smirk, but… I never really believe my own overconfidence. You really think so?”</p><p>You dare to reach forward toward the head of the Church, and he takes your hand tentatively. “I do. You weren’t just born to be an Emeritus, Terzo. You’re not just another number. You were born to be a showman… and it’s okay to be yourself. Just you, the man.”</p><p>“That was very fucking cheesy,” he mutters, and you laugh as his eyes search yours. He lifts your hand up to his mouth, and presses his lips against your knuckles. “Thank you, my dear one.”</p><p>As you sit there with the Third comfortably by his fireplace, you realize you adore his cocksure attitude and sexy strut as Papa… but for what it’s worth, you like the man behind the mask a little more.  </p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Papa II Comforts You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Papa II helps you get over a panic attack.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The after effects of your panic leave you feeling cold and unpleasant. You had just been walking down the corridors in the ministry when it had hit. As usual, for no reason at all. </p><p>Close to crying again, you look around to see where you are. Maybe if you were near the Cardinal’s door, he would help. <em>Didn’t someone say he had anxiety too? </em>Maybe that was just a rumor. </p><p>You turn, and stare at the big black door. <em>Shit.</em> It’s Emeritus II’s door. Out of all the rooms you could have happened upon… Glancing around, you feel the shakes come back, and decide your need for help is stronger than your sense of propriety, or fear of the middle brother. You knock lightly. Footsteps approach, and you’d hold your breath if you weren’t close to losing it. </p><p>The door opens, and Papa is suddenly in front of you, skull paint still on but the rest of him in a black bathrobe. His skull paint does nothing to break the illusion that he’s glaring at you. Maybe it isn’t an illusion. </p><p>“What is the meaning of this?” Papa demands, eyes blazing. “I did not summon you.” You’re on the verge of bursting into tears, and he quickly realizes this. His eyes soften, and he ushers you and wordlessly. He closes the door, and sits you down by his fireplace. The place is decorated black and sleek and modern, with some expensive looking furniture. You don’t want to cry all over it. </p><p>Papa suddenly surprises you with a cup in front of your face. It’s steaming. You shakily raise it to your lips, and after a good drink of it, he sits down across from you, tenting his fingers in front of his chest like a villain. “Now. Why don’t you tell me what all this is about? What is the matter?” Your head is spinning, and not just from the panic attack. Just a second ago, he looked ready to throw you to the hellhounds. Now, he’s asking how you are. </p><p>“I…” you try to speak, your leg bouncing, “I don’t…. know.” You grimace, tears filling your eyes again as you expect him to grow irritated with your lack of a conclusive answer. He just nods however, taking a sip from his own drink. </p><p>“That is fine. Drink, piccola/o uno. We will just sit.” You do as he says, and warmth begins to spread through your tired body. “I would like to apologize for my hasty cruelty at the door. I can be… prickly.” He gives a sharp nod, but his eyes are kinder now; a kindness that feels like a big warm hug, or the closest you could get to one from the Second. A little more courageous, you sneak a glance at Papa. He’s watching you closely, and you blush. He tilts his chin up, as if making a decision. “Hm. You had better sleep here tonight, eh? I won’t have you walking around the halls, trying to find your way back to a lonely and unforgiving bedroom.” You swallow. </p><p>“But Sister Imperator–” </p><p>“Hush now. Pay her no mind. I will take care of things, and you… you will not worry. Mm? You have had enough of that for one night, I forbid it.” You protest again. </p><p>“I don’t want to keep you sitting here all night, Papa.”</p><p>“No? Concerned my backside will begin to get sore?” he asks, his lips twitching up. You find yourself laughing as he chuckles too. He holds up a hand after a moment. “We will sit for as long as you need to, no less. Do we understand one another?” Resigning yourself to dutifully nodding, you smile slightly. The Second Papa gets a bad rap for being the scariest… but you weren’t about to ruin his reputation. </p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Rat Baths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Copia bathes his rats.</p>
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    <p></p><div class="post-content">
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  <div class="body-text">
    <p>It’s as soothing for Copia as it is for his rats. He’s got the day marked off, the proud day he “showers” his babies, and he’s sure they’ve come to know it too. It’s only about twice a year, three days before the last day of the month, and it’s a day to look forward to. Some of them, of course, aren’t as jazzed as others for it. Some will make themselves scarce when Copia opens the cage, reaching in. 90% of his babies, though, love it. Especially three of of the rats Copia had the biggest soft spots for: Polpetta, Piccolo, and Bella.</p>
    <p>Polpetta is a big fat rat that does little else but sit in the corner of the cage and sleep, though his favorite thing is a back scratch. Whenever the cage opens, Piccolo, a small tan rat that looks as though you could crush him, comes dashing over for the very first cuddles. Bella is a white rat, a bit of a mischievous one, and will preen for attention. She’s escaped once or twice, and has been known to bite people she does not like, or people Copia doesn’t like. She’s undecided about Nihil, but one time when she escaped, she did sit on the Papa’s nose while he slept in sinister wait, debating whether or not to chew on it. (She had been thoroughly scolded for that– no strawberries for a week!)</p>
    <p>Copia had nicknamed Bella “Terzo” since her antics and dramatic inclinations reminded him to no end of his predecessor. A couple of ghouls had heard him calling the rat that– they’re not about to say anything.</p>
    <p>The rat baths were really due to take place the next day, but Copia couldn’t sleep, so he was doing it now. </p>
    <p>It was Piccolo’s turn to bathe first out of all of them, and he ran up and down Copia’s arm in excitement. </p>
    <p>“You are getting fast, bambino mio,” Copia mused softly. The soft pitter-patter of the tiny, excitable rat’s feet brought comfort to the Cardinal’s anxious mind, and he forgot about his work for the time being as he lifted the rat up in his hands to stare into beady little black eyes. “Yes. Very fast.” Piccolo gave a rare squeak, and began to chew on a loose strand of Copia’s hair. Copia simply patted the rat’s head with his index finger. “It is yummy, eh? It is a nest anyway under my beretta, you might as well feast.” He made a soft cooing noise as he finally eased the small rat down, covering him with the palm of his other hand for protection as he carried him to the sinks in his master bathroom. “It is bath time, bambino.” A squeak. “I know. This is good!” Another squeak. “Yes, it is warm! A nice warm bath for you.”</p>
    <p>Copia hummed the outro notes of Pro Memoria to himself as he got out the small white washcloth. He got the tap running to a gentle warmth, and picked Piccolo up. “Are you ready to bathe in the pools of Venus?” he murmured, and pressed a soft kiss to the rat’s nose. “Come, now. Let’s get you squeaky clean. You see what I did there?” Copia chuckled at his own bad joke, and <a href="https://kissthegoghuleh.tumblr.com/post/618432316188098560/wzzd7-cinder-taking-a-bath-copia-does-this-to">set the rat gently down in the sink</a>, outside of the running water. With care, he draped the washcloth over him, the rat’s body almost completely disappearing under it before some adjustment. Now, it was resting comfortably over his back, as Copia mooned over him. “Look at that little nose of yours! Mm? Look at it, poking out so! A handsome little nose, yes.” He moved his smallest rat just under the water, and watched his eyes narrow into euphoric little slits. Copia’s face blossomed into a grin. “You love that warm water. It feels nice, no? Ah, look at you! My baby!”</p>
    <p>He sighed, feeling the stress of the day come back as he got to thinking. It seemed like as of late, he could never do enough. Nihil had become even more demanding, convinced somewhere in that bitter old mind that if he pushed the Cardinal to a breaking point, he would snap under the stress, and be unfit to take up the position in the church’s band that Sister Imperator had wanted him to. But Copia was smart enough to know this, and the preposterous goal at the back of his mind was within reach now. Unfortunately, Copia knew this meant he had to endure a couple more months of Papa Nihil’s own personal hell for it. It would be worth it one day, and then he would bask in never having to work hunched over a little desk until sunrise again.</p>
    <p>Sensing his malady, Pic squeaked, and Copia smiled. “Oh, little one. Do not worry about dear old me. You bless daddy’s night. Yes! You make his heart swell and spirit sing. And how have you done this? Simply by being you, my tiny one. That is all.” He gave the rat a little scritch on the chin, and added a dollop of shampoo, gently massaging the washcloth in and watching the happy rodent wiggle around and enjoy. Pic’s little nose twitched, and he looked, ironically enough, like he was in heaven. Their congregation was quite the opposite of course, but Copia found small tastes of heaven in the the beauty of the Dark Lord’s walls every day.</p>
    <p>When Pic seemed to be finished, Copia gently scooped him up, gave him another kiss that wet his own mustache, and set him down on the counter. “Time to dry,” he murmured, and Piccolo sat, happily waiting to be dried off by the benevolent Cardinal. Copia retrieved a clean white cloth, permanently stained with the black eye paint that he washed off nightly, and softly rubbed the little rat until his fur was poofed and dry. “Bellisimo. What a catch,” Copia whispered. “I will have to keep Bella in a separate cage tonight, she will want you desperately. Then do you know what I will get? A hundred baby rats, just like you, and I will be excommunicated for it.” He chuckled at the thought of the church overrun with tiny rats. While that sounded lovely for him, he didn’t think Imperator would appreciate it very much, and some of the more wound up Siblings were sure to complain.</p>
    <p>“When I am Papa, perhaps. Sound good? You want to be a Papa, just like me? A different kind of Papa, I think,” Copia chatted, and scooped Pic up again, carrying him back to the cage. The next rat he took was Bella, whose white fur was stained from food and grime. Copia tutted. “We will get you cleaned up, my special girl.” He took her to the sinks, going through the same process. He looked deep into her attentive red eyes. He swore, out of all of them, she was the most intelligent, and could understand every word he said.</p>
    <p>“Are you going to be pretty when we are finished here, bambina mia? You know you will! You will be the belle of the ball. The rat of the ball, so beautiful. The others, they don’t deserve you.” The rat lifted her twitching nose, and tried to bolt from under the towel. Copia laughed, catching her and easing her back into the sink. “You think you are clever? I’ve seen it all before with you, you can not trick the trickster, tesoro. There we are– back in.” He yawned as he dried Bella off, debating whether or not to send her after Nihil after all tonight. If Papa was in the infirmary for rat bites tomorrow, Copia would have a break for at least a day.</p>
    <p>But, as usual, his conscience won out, and he just carried her back to the cage. “Polpetta? Shall we?”</p>
    <p>As he conversed with the next rat that resembled a brown baseball, he found his eyelids getting heavy. “Let us wash that little tail now, my round friend… just… just there… there we are…” The next thing he knew, he had fallen asleep against the counter. Polpetta tried to gnaw on the faucet. No such luck.</p>
    <p>Copia’s eyes opened as he felt a bunch of scuffling around his face and neck, and was greeted with the sight of all his rats gathered around him, trying to wake him up. “Hm? What is it, little ones? Have I fallen asleep in the kitchen again…?” His eyes opened fully again. “Oh!” He stood, and wandered back to the bedroom, scratching his head. “I must have left your cage door open, ah… <em>che sciocco sono.” </em>He ushered everyone back in, thanking them for their kindness. “Alright. No more mischief, eh?” He counted his rats, 19 of them. Bella was missing. Of course she was. With a groan, he kissed a good night’s sleep goodbye, preparing for a night of scouring the ministry halls looking for her before she chewed someone’s face off or a ghoul ate her.</p>
    <p>He turned however, and found the little pristine white rat curled up on his pillow. A small sigh escaped him as he put his hands on his hips. “I suppose you think I will find this cute.” Bella’s whiskers twitched, and Copia’s insides twisted looking at the little baby, a dollop of cream on his pillow. “Ah, shit. You’re right. You are fucking cute. Okay, you can sleep with me this once!” Unfortunately once he said that, the unlatched cage busted open, and all his rats dashed to make their home on his bed and in his sheets in invitation. Chuckling, the Cardinal shook his head. He wasn’t about to protest a few extra cuddle buddies after a bad day– it could be their little secret.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Pillow Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Requested: Soft Copia in bed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pillow talk with Copia is your favourite time of the day, evening, or night. There’s something so real about the connection you two have, and the conversations and fun you two share while sharing a bed brings you closer together than ever.</p><p>Copia rolls off of you, placing one last kiss to your forehead before collapsing on his side of the large bed. You catch your breath from the sex, coming down from your well-worked-for climax.</p><p>“You’re wonderful,” he breathes.</p><p>“You’ve got more stamina than a rabbit. Speaking of animals,” you sigh, snuggling under Copia’s damp arm, “How are your rats?” The Cardinal begins to stroke up and down the side of your body, bare to him and beautiful.</p><p>“Polpetta, he misses you. You’re his favourite.”</p><p>You giggle. “It’s because I give him fucking pieces of cheese.”</p><p>“I feed him too, you know.”</p><p>“The boring stuff. He likes the treats, that one. That’s why he likes me.”</p><p>“Yes, that… could be the reason,” Copia laughs, and you smile. He waves a hand. “Ah, no. I kid. He has a special bond with you.” He chances a glance your way. “Just like someone else.” Your heart melts.</p><p>“Who would that be?”</p><p>“Perhaps someone you are laying close to. I don’t know.”</p><p>“Who could that be?” you smirk, rolling over to straddle him. You trace the laugh lines around his eyes, sighing in pure adoration.</p><p>“You like my wrinkles?” he teases, settling his hand comfortably on your naked hip. “Terzo Emeritus puts them there daily when he piles my desk higher and higher with paperwork. It is a miracle I had enough time to make love to you tonight.” You huff, tracing circles around the smattering of hair on his chest.</p><p>“He’s just jealous that you’re too much man for him. That cute little mustache… those chops…”</p><p>“You are making fun of my facial hairs,” Copia frets, patting his sideburns protectively. You giggle, rolling over to straddle him.</p><p>“I am n– I love your facial hair!” you grin.</p><p>“You are making fun. You are laughing.”</p><p>“Nooo,” you moan, leaning down. “I just wanna kiss it. Come on. I love it, kiss.” You lean down to give his mustache a kiss. And another. And another.</p><p>“Alright, okay. I get the pictures,” he murmurs, and you let your forehead fall against his. He rubs his thumb along your inner thighs under the sheets, using his free hand to press you closer to his chest so your bodies are entwined as one.</p><p>“I am going to make you my prime mover when I become Papa,” Copia says seriously. Your breath hitches. All you can do in response is kiss him properly on the lips.  </p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Haunters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You and Copia visit a graveyard for a fun night.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>“No, come on! Trust me, eh?!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You follow Copia as he arrives at the gate of the old cemetery.</p>
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  <p>“Should we be doing this?” you giggle, biting your lip. He holds out a gloved hand, bowing his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You have my deepest assurance, amore. No one will find us here, doing what we are doing.” You smirk, and accept his offered hand. He leads you with poise down the rows of tombstones, the fog curling around your ankles as you walk. You had worn your best shoes for this, and were excited—you’d never done this before in a graveyard.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Copia had proposed the idea in the first place, you had been hesitant. Wasn’t it disrespectful to the dead? Copia had assured you he had the utmost respect for the dead, and engaging in such an act would honour them in a way. You supposed he was right.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A wolf howls in the distance, and you laugh, cuddling under Copia’s arm as the two of you walk toward the mausoleum he had wanted to show you. “It is such a sight to see,” he murmurs, softly tucking your hair behind your ear. “Just as you are. Such beauty in the darkness we thrive in, hm?” Your cheeks heat up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you for coming out with me tonight, here,” he says, rubbing your hand in his. “I know it is a bit odd... and a bit spooky.”</p>
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  <p>“I love it,” you grin. “Anything like this, it’s exciting.”</p>
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  <p>“Good, good. Cool. I like it spooky too, heh.” He pulls you tighter to his side, and you remain on his arm like the wife of a count, lurking in the shadows of the consecrated burial ground of your ancestors. The idea of that excites you even more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where is it, Copia?” you beg, “I can’t wait any longer for it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It is ahead. Patience, little one. Your Cardinal will not let you down.” A cool breeze sweeps around the two of you, and you both huddle in closer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is this really the weather to be doing this in?” you ask him, looking up at the gloomy clouds shrouding the full moon. “I mean, we’ll get cold. Couldn’t we do this in your bedroom?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It is more fun here,” he replies. “Trust me. I know.” You take his word for it as you two finally approach the mausoleum, where a long coffin shaped tomb lays before it with the likeness of a man at rest chiselled into it. “An ancestor of mine,” he explains, patting your back and letting you go. He drops the bag he’s carrying. He kisses two fingers, presses them to the tomb, and crosses himself downward. “He was a vampire, you know.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Copia chuckles. “I am only kidding. Or am I?” You huff, walking over to the bag.</p>
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  <p>“Let’s get our things out so we can start the fun. I’m dying to try it.” He nods, hoisting the bag up and digging what you need out.</p>
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  <p>“To preserve the element of mystery,” Copia drawls, handing you your things, “Go behind the crypt, eh? Change for me there, and make an entrance for me. It will help me... get into the spirit, yeah?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay,” you giggle, and hurry off. Copia remains by the gravestones to change himself. Behind the crypt, you hurriedly take your bulky sweater off, and slip into what you brought along for tonight. You feel the material slide sensually along your arms as you slip it on, shrouded in the very mystery that Copia had been talking about. You exhale, embodying the feeling of what you wore. You were so fucking ready.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You step out from behind the mausoleum with a single stiletto heel. Copia’s eyes travel up the leg wrapped in sexy fishnet, and his breath hitches as his heartbeat picks up.</p>
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  <p>“You ready?!” you call.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think so!” Copia calls back, adjusting himself. You step out from behind the crypt, and lift your arms. “Cara mia,” Copia whispers, clutching at his chest in reverie.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The white sheet overtop of you with the eyeholes flutters in the wind, as a long “OOOOOO!” comes out of you. Copia lifts his own arms, his sheet flapping as if he really was the ghost he was dressed as. He looks so silly, his tight pants and long shoes sticking out from under the sheet. “Are you scared, baby?!” you ask him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Terrified,” he swallows. You make another ghastly haunting noise, and Copia readjusts his eyeholes so he can see where he’s going. “Now then. Shall we haunt?”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You turn and start to run with your arms out wide, and Copia dashes after you, sheet fluttering behind him as he hops over graves and spooks the little old cemetery with you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“I am coming for yooou, Siiiiisteeeer!”</em> Copia wails.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“Noooot if I get you fiiiirssst!</em>” you shriek back in the distance.</p>
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  <p>Maybe it isn’t the dinner and a movie you were expecting, but it’s a lot more fun.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The One Time Terzo Was Good With Kids</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Based on the BTS photo of Terzo with the kids on the set of the He Is music video.</p>
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    <p>"Look at our drawing!" </p><p>Papa glances over from the seat he's resting on as the director of the music video frames the next shot. He sees the two kids </p><p>"You, eh..." he looks around, "You want me to look at the drawing?" </p><p>"Yes!" both kids chorus. Papa hops up, dusts off his thighs, and strides over. </p><p>"I see. Well, Papa never disappoints, eh?" He cringes inwardly, reminding himself that they probably wouldn't understand that joke anyway. He looks down at the colouring book the two are sharing, and see that they've scribbled over the entire thing in every colour known to man. </p><p>"That's Mickey Mouse," the girl points to a blue and red blob. </p><p>"That's a train," the boy points out next, finger following along a bunch of green, jagged lines. </p><p>"You drew this?" Papa deadpans. </p><p>"Yes!" </p><p>"You were the ones behind this, that I am looking at here?" </p><p>"Yes!" they both insist in delight. Papa spends a minute thoughtfully looking at the page, before clapping his hands together. </p><p>"How much?" The kids look confused, so he goes on. "How much will you sell this to Papa for? I must have it for my extensive art collection back in the Abbey. You know, I own all the best originals in the world. To impress my lovers, you see. You understand this, yes." </p><p>"Where are you gonna put it?" the little boy asks, sucking on his pinky finger. </p><p>"I will hang it above the grand fireplace. Every night as I enjoy my cognac and cigar, I will stare up at it and I will ruminate on what the art means." </p><p>"Rumate?" the girl asks, scrunching up her face. </p><p>"Yes, cara mia, it means to think very hard." Papa pats her back.</p><p>"My mum said cigars are bad and stinky," the boy says, a very serious expression on his face. Terzo nods, the same grave expression on his face. </p><p>"Si, si. Your mama sounds like my brother." </p><p>"You have a brother, like me?" the girl asks. </p><p>"Si, yes, he is not like your brother though. He is very scary and mean. Not nice to look at or talk to at all, I'm afraid. Smells, too." Papa claps his hands together. "So. How much for the art?" The two kids giggle. </p><p>"A million billion dollars!" the girl blurts. </p><p>"A bajillion gagillion dollars!" the little boy laughs. </p><p>"Done," Papa pounds a fist into his palm, "I will have my peoples talk to your peoples, si? A pleasure doing business with you both." He nods as the kids both devolve into hysterical laughter, and smiles to himself as he goes back to sit again. There is nothing quite like a child's mind, and Terzo finds himself envious of it sometimes. Moments later, he feels a tug at his white and gold sleeve. It's the little girl. </p><p>"Mister Papa?" </p><p>He raises an eyebrow. "Yes?" </p><p>"Will you colour with us too?" </p><p>Papa spends a long time looking at her, before holding out his hand. She takes it, and he presses a soft little kiss to the back of hers. "It would be an honour, tesoro. But you may have to teach Papa a few things, si? I am good at the singing, but the drawing? Feh. Very bad. I might embarrass myself, I am thinking." </p><p>"We'll teach you," the boy says excitedly. Just then, the handler comes over to announce the next take has been set up for shooting.</p><p>Papa looks down at the two kids. "I will take a raincheck. Don't forget now!"</p><p>The kids gather around him for the shot, and Papa finds himself smiling a little wider. Even though he never really could understand kids, he loved them very much all the same. </p>
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